


Accidents Happen

by SensationalSunburst



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gotta learn to dodge Gladio, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Training Accidents, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 17:31:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16392098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SensationalSunburst/pseuds/SensationalSunburst
Summary: Gladio looked down and froze.There was a dagger buried to the hilt just beneath his collarbone.





	Accidents Happen

“Be advised, Gladio,” Ignis said, he was settling in the back corner of the training room, tucked just behind one of the massive stone pillars, “His Highness is still unsettled by His Majesty’s new leg brace. We’ve… discussed it, if you will-” 

“He was being a brat, I remember.” 

“Gladio.” Ignis said and if he were a lesser man, he would have shrank beneath the ice cold disapproval of Ignis’s tone. 

“I get it,” Gladio said, “I got it. A good training session will work it all out. He’ll be back to his normal level of brat by the end of the day, just you wait.” 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Two hours of warp training later and it looked like Noctis was about to make Gladio into a liar. 

Ignis, still sorting through paperwork and reports at the table he’d dragged in from gods-knows-where in the corner, had only looked up a handful of times throughout the session in response to the short, bitten of curses being tossed out of Noctis’s mouth as Gladio tossed him to the mat again and again and again. 

“You sure you wouldn’t rather talk this out, Princess?” Gladio said, only the faintest disruption to his words as evidence his flagging energy. Noctis, drenched in sweat and still openly furious, even from his splayed position on the mat, glared from beneath the curtain of his bangs. He was going to hit stasis soon, Gladio knew. He had the data from previous sessions. The prince was getting better, undoubtedly. He had almost a full armory in the Armiger now, polearms swords, daggers- the works. But they’d been working with swords all day, standard length, and the larger the weapon, the faster Noctis flagged. Added of course, to the increased weight of using real weapons, and not the normal practice blades, as they were too dull to lodge into the stone of the walls, and it was supposed to be a short, exhausting day. 

“Fuck you.” Noctis snarled. Gladio felt a frown form on his lips, thrown by the sudden twisting in his chest at the sheer animosity in his tone. 

Noctis hurled himself to the side and then promptly disappeared, the only indication he’d ever been there at all the stain of sweat on the mat and the afterimage of iridescent blue crystals in the air. Less then a second later, there was a jarring thud as Noctis slammed home into the pillar behind him and Gladio spun, warning bells singing in his mind. Even Ignis had looked up from his paperwork, glancing between the fading remnants of Noctis’s warp and the open concern Gladio could feel on his face. 

“Noctis,” Gladio said, “You’re going to hit stasis. Get down and let’s stretch it out.” 

“Who’s wimping out now, huh?” Noctis panted, “A king always pushes his limits. Isn’t that- Isn’t what you’re always hounding me about?” 

“A king always  _ knows  _ his limits too,” Gladio said, “You have time to build yours up-” 

“No!” Noctis hissed, “I don’t!” 

And that was the heart of it, Gladio thought. He took a step forward, but when he opened his mouth to reply, Noctis was gone. His sword was still stuck in the stone, surrounded by the shimmering, fading crystal shards of a warp strike. Gladio dropped his broadsword and brought his arms up, prepping to catch Noctis when he emerged from that in between world. But then there was a one-two punch to his chest, knocking the air from his lungs and he blinked up at the ceiling, stunned. 

It wasn’t often that Noctis got the drop on him, but when Gladio blinked and found himself flat on his back, Noctis crouched above him, he figured he was going to have to up that tally mark. 

“Good hit!” He wheezed, “That’s what I’m-” 

Noctis was rapidly paling above him, panic bleeding into his fiercely triumphant expression. He threw himself to the side, off from atop Gladio and made a low, piteous sound in the back of his throat. 

“What? Noc-” Gladio moved to sit up. Noctis threw his hands to Gladio’s shoulders and pressed him back flat and Gladio’s world went white with agony. The pain stole the shout from his throat, and his leg spasmed against the mat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so- Ignis!  _ Ignis _ ! “ Noct’s voice cracked around the name as the static retreated from Gladio’s ears and he heard the card table that Ignis was using as a desk go flying. 

Gladio looked down and froze. 

There was a dagger buried to the hilt just beneath his collarbone. 

“I’m sorry! Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Gladio! Ignis!  _ Iggy, help! _ ” Noctis’s hand hovered just above the hilt, shaking and already coated with blood and Gladio finally found his voice. 

“Don’t! Don’t touch it! Don’t touch it. Don’t pull it- Don’t pull it out.” He gasped, just as Ignis dropped to his knees beside him, eyes wide and face white. 

“Forgot to dodge, Gladiolus?” Ignis said, hands hovering, just as Noct’s had, over the blade. 

“Ha, ha.” Gladio said. His chest was heaving and each panicked inhale sent dizzying waves of pain radiating through him. He knew in an academic sense he had to calm down, to slow the jumping of his chest  lest the warm puddle he could feel gathering against his back grow even bigger, but he was having trouble following his own advice, especially as a desperate exploratory wiggle revealed that he was pinned. 

“Dad-” He ground out once color bleed back into his vision, “Go get my dad or Cor. Go, go, go.” 

“I’ll go,” Ignis said, shooting to his feet, “Noctis, stay here and keep him conscious. Do not remove the blade.” 

“It was an accident, I didn’t mean to, Gladio, I didn’t mean to- oh gods.” Noctis was almost chanting, his hands shaking where the hovered above him, unsure of where was safe to touch. Ignis set a hand on his shoulder and Noctis instinctively grabbed at it, smearing blood along his fingers before Ignis released him  and set off at a sprint for the Crownsguard offices. 

“I know. Noctis, I know, it’s okay.” Gladio said, “Gimme your hand, kid.” 

Noctis’s grip was painful and slick, but he smiled anyway. 

“Good hit. That was a good hit.” 

“I’m sorry!  _ Fuck _ ! You’re going to be ok! I’m so sorry, oh gods.” 

“I know,” He squeezed his hand back but groaned when the movement brought dark clouds to the corner of his vision. 

“Don’t move! Don’t move! I think- I think it’s pinning you to the mat. Just- Iggy will come back with help.” Noctis sounded close to tears, and Gladio just couldn’t abide by that. 

“For the record, you shouldn’t- don’t apologize when you pull off a move like that.” He said. He focused on taking shallow breaths, trying to jostle himself as little as possible. 

“Fuck you, man!” Noctis laughed, a slight hysterical edge to the sound, but his hand wasn’t shaking as hard, so Gladio counted it as a win. 

“Training- Training accidents happen.” He said, “It’s okay.” 

The door to the room blew open, slamming against the walls, and Clarus, Cor and Ignis flew inside. Clarus moved immediately to Noctis, checking him over for injury with a critical eye before turning to his son. His expression was carved from marble, the crease between his eyebrows deep as a crater as he spent a long moment staring at the dagger and the red stain spreading across his grey t-shirt. 

“Afternoon, sir.” Gladio said. 

“You’re hyperventilating,” Cor said, placing a feather light hand to the center of Gladio’s chest, “You need to calm down.” 

“Too deep and-” Gladio’s eyes flicked to Noctis and Ignis stood immediately, putting his hands on his shoulders and gently pulled him away, muttering about making room and notifying the hospital. Noctis allowed himself to be pulled and once he was out of earshot Gladio tried again. 

“Too deep and I think, I think I’ll pass out. The blade is lodged in the mat.” He left out that he was pretty sure he was about to pass out then, that he was starting to get nervous at how much of his back was wet. He didn’t say that he was cold and embarrassed and did  _ not  _ want to be conscious for them pulling the blade out, but he knew his father could read all of it from his expression. 

“Gladio, keep your eyes on me.” Clarus said and he realized that he’d let his eyes slipped closed. It took effort to open them back up, even more to synch his breathing with Cor to his left, but he wasn’t in the habit of disobeying his father. 

“Elixir or potion?” Clarus asked. 

Gladio blinked. 

“Gladio, would you use an elixir or a potion for this.” 

“Remote location? Elixir. Close to-” 

The doors opened again and Dr. Lawston, one of the Citadel’s on-call physicians, was suddenly standing over him. Her hands were on her hips, her bag at her feet as she looked down at him, surveying the damage with her mouth, painted bright red as always, quirked into a grim smirk. 

“Not the worst training accident I’ve ever seen, that’s for sure.” She said. She nudged Clarus aside with a her foot and took his spot, demoting his father to a position by his knee. “The prince really got you good, huh? Do you know how long the blade is?” 

“Fourteen inches,” Cor said. Gladio’s breathing stuttered, and then kicked back up, too quick inhales doing nothing to fill his lungs as he imagined how painful it was going to be to remove. “It was Regis’s favorite, you can tell by the design here.” 

“Yikes.” Dr. Lawston said. Gladio closed his eyes as his father squeezed his knee. 

“Alright boys, here’s what we’re gonna do. Clarus, on my mark, you’re going to remove it. Straight up, steady and fast, you know the drill. Then, we’re going to pop a potion on that, get him over the gurney and then head down to the room we have prepped. Cor, you go ahead and put pressure on it while we move, OK? Sound good?” She asked. 

He assumed there were nods, but he couldn’t bear to open his eyes to see. He was already dizzy enough as it was, and if he saw the dagger, coated in his blood in his father’s hand he was going to puke, puncture wound be damned. 

There was the sound of movement, and then he felt the knife jiggle as a hand came down to brace the wound. The world greyed out, static roaring in his ears and we was fairly certain he screamed, but when he faded back in it was to the sound of Dr. Lawston counting down. 

“Okay, here we go, one, two-” 

His father ripped the dagger loose, he could feel, but not hear himself screaming, his throat tearing itself raw with it, he felt his back bow up off the training mat and then he felt nothing at all.

 

* * *

 

Gladio opened his eyes to the harsh white ceiling of the Citadel’s hospital wing. He was fuzzy all over with the buzz of powerful painkillers, warm and comfortable despite the faint, distant feeling of gauze wrapped around his chest. He tilted his head and blinked to find Noctis slumped over the the side of the bed, both his his hands wrapped around Gladio’s. The shadows under his eyes, bad on a good day, had darkened into bruises. 

Gladio reached out and rested his other hand atop Noctis’s fluffy head. The second his hand made contact, Noctis shut upright, eyes bloodshot and exhausted. 

“Gladdy!”

“When was the last time you slept, kid?” He rasped. 

“He’d just fallen asleep,” Ignis said. Gladio tilted his head to the other side to smile at him, nudging his head into his hand when Ignis reached out to cup his cheek. 

“How are you feeling?” Ignis asked. 

“Great,” Gladio said, gratefully taking the sippy cup of water from Ignis. They had him mostly propped up, and a few presses of the buttons on the side of the bed had him upright. “When can I go home?”

“When can-? Gladio, I  _ stabbed  _ you!” Noctis exploded, he shot to his feet, but between Gladio’s iron grip and his inability to free his feet from the rungs of the chair he fell immediately, face flushed and eyes bloodshot. 

“Did you mean to?” Gladio asked, he tugged Noct’s hand closer, forcing him to lean over the bed. 

“No! No of course not! I didn’t mean to-” 

“I know,” Gladio interrupted. He smiled and tugged on Noctis’s hand again, drawing him up and onto the bed. Noctis curled himself around Gladio’s uninjured side, head resting on his shoulder. Gladio wrapped his arm up and over Noctis’s shaking shoulders and shushed him, silencing his continued muttered apologies, shaking him lightly. “You’re alright, Noct. It was an accident, nobody’s mad.” 

Noct made a sound, almost a whine and pressed his face further into Gladio’s shoulder. Ignis reached forward across them both and ran one hand through Noct’s hair and the other through Gladio’s, visibly relaxing as he fell back into the chair behind him. He removed his glasses, cleaning them on a cloth he pulled from his pocket and sighed. 

“Now then, let us all just relax.” He said, “Dr. Lawston will be back any second.”

“I’m not worried,” Gladio said, yawning, “Accidents happen.” 


End file.
